


Jackass Jesus and the Homo-Liberal War on Christmas

by DigitalInfamy



Series: Jackass Jesus [5]
Category: Christian Bible, Christian Bible (New Testament), Harambe - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bigotry & Prejudice, Christian Persecution Complex, Christmas, Gay, Gen, Homosexuality, Humor, Parody, Prayer, Religious Right, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-08 08:31:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8837662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DigitalInfamy/pseuds/DigitalInfamy
Summary: Jackass Jesus is irritated that gays and liberals are attacking and desecrating Christmas, so he sets off to Earth once again to set things straight. However, things may not turn out the way he expected.





	1. Chapter 1

Wow, Earth is really fucked up these days.

I mean, look at what we’ve had in the past few years: faggot marriage, transgender bathroom access, no school prayer, anti-Christian political correctness…

Yeah, I know it’s been like this for a while and God and I haven’t done jack shit about it, but I’m still allowed to reminisce about old times, right?

But I digress. I haven’t even introduced myself. How rude of me.

Hi. I’m Jesus-Fucking-Christ.

Son of God, savior of the world, and currently seated at the right hand of my Daddy, God, doing absolutely fuck all.

To be fair, I am still grounded after all. Also, I did recently promise myself that I would respect humanity’s free will to come to the Lord’s side and live a sin free life. I can’t exactly go down there and tell people to start stoning faggots, trannies, Democrats and other abominations to God. They have to choose the straight and narrow for themselves you know.

But holy shit, what’s happening down on Earth is depressing as fuck. Seeing that crap for the last few decades… well, that shit will drive you mad. Surely I can still do something about it. I did plenty back in the old days. I don’t necessarily have to trample on free will.

I shift my “God mode” view tool, which I’m currently using to see what’s happening on Earth, to random places on Earth. I’m not really looking for anything in particular – I just want to see how fucked up humanity has become ever since I left the planet about two thousand years ago.

Well, to be fair, it was fucked up then, but this is a different kind of fucked up. Me coming to visit humanity all that time ago was supposed to stop shit like this happening. Instead, sin is everywhere.

I bring the “God mode” view to stop on some town square, where people are gathering around a massive Christmas tree which towers over all of them. It’s not yet Christmas, so it isn’t lit up, but it’s already decorated with loads of tinsel, baubles and massive string lights. Basically it was ready to go come festival time.

How boring.

I look for a short while before I decide to switch the view to another random place. This time, I land inside the headquarters of the Fenwick Atheist Group – the late David Pilverman’s house. There are about twenty or so people sitting in the living room while a young guy in a black and white business suit stands up against the far wall next to the wall-mounted flat screen TV. On the TV was a graphic with a rectangular red background, with the words “Make Christmas Great again: Skip Church” plastered across the center in large white block letters. The bottom left corner simply read “Fenwick Atheist Group” in much smaller block text and the left corner said ‘In memory of David Pilverman.’

Clearly, David Pilverman roasting in hell wasn’t enough to deter these fuckers. But I digress.

Right now, the smartly dressed man standing next to the TV is rambling on about the strategy to “take back Christmas.” Of course, the fucker doesn’t know what the hell he is talking about, since Christmas is Christian – you know, because it celebrates my birthday. Even little kids know that.

Yeah, I know the date is off, but shut the fuck up. No human is perfect.

But back to the topic of taking back Christmas. Atheists are an awfully arrogant lot; they like to think that they know everything. I decide to listen for a while to his little rant. I want to see how this guy is going to make a fool of himself.

“Remember everyone,” the man began, “Christmas was originally a pagan festival, but it has been hijacked by Christians. If any Christian tries to pull the ‘Christmas is Christian’ bullshit, throw Jeremiah Ten, verses one to five in their faces.”

I see some of the people nod their heads in agreement at this. The man then motions to the graphic on the TV screen. “This is our new billboard design, which the vast majority of you agreed on. It capitalizes on the election of Donald Krumf to point out to religious people that the country is for all people, not just them, as well as letting closet atheists that they are not alone. In the coming weeks, they’ll be going up in heavily religious neighbourhoods.”

With this, the people in attendance clap their hands vigorously. I simply stare in disgust at them. What sad losers, trying to enjoy Christmas like Christians currently do. If you all were Christian, then there would be no problem, you fucking imbeciles.

And how dare you fucking desecrate my birthday, you fucking sinning infidels. How about I shit on your birthday party? I’m starting to get a little angry now.

I watch him ramble on for a little while before I get bored and decide to move on. It’s best to ignore these fuckers anyway. Don’t get too worked up about them, I tell myself. It’s not worth it. Calm down, Jesus.

I flick my view to another random place. This time, I’m looking at the living room of another house, with a group of about ten young men sitting in a circle on the cream carpet. Interestingly enough, all of them were in rainbow colored t-shirts. Also, there was no furniture in this room: no sofas, no tables or chairs, nothing but the carpet.

Quickly consulting my omniscience, I realized that I was looking at a meetup of young faggots located somewhere in the centre of a suburb named Hillsborough. It neighboured Pilverman’s suburb of Fenwick, though this suburb wasn’t a rich middle-class area like Fenwick but a place filled with rotten douchebags that are too poor to live nearer to the city and usually spend more time getting high and shooting people than actually doing something useful, like spreading the gospel. Probably the only good thing I could say about this suburb was that it might lower the property prices at the edges of Fenwick, which would make it great for high class bible study houses or some shit like that.

“Everybody,” one of them began, “as you no doubt will know, times are dire indeed. With the election of Donald Krumpf for president, we will have to resort to using much more… shall I say, extreme measures. Our very existence is under threat now. All of our hard-won rights could be rolled back before our eyes. Now is not the time for dithering. Now is the time for fighting. Now I know that we are short on cash and resources; as you can see, I’ve had to sell everything in this house for our cause. But remember, all hope is not lost. We can still win this.”

A murmur of agreement could be heard from the group.

The young man that was speaking stood up, and now I could see him clearly. He was a blond haired, white man, with brilliant blue eyes; he looked exactly like a fucking typical college Nazi liberal – you know, the type constantly trying to force “equality” and “tolerance” bullshit down your throat. He started to speak again, much more animatedly this time with his hands waving in front of him as he spoke. “Never forget, gentlemen, what people who came before had to go through to get to where we are today. Remember all the young gays that were locked up and subject to cruel, degrading treatment. Remember all the young people rejected by their own families, beaten in the schools and the streets. Remember the number that took their own lives. Remember all the cruelty and hatred that they experienced. We will not go back to those times. We will fight to keep our rightful place in society!”

Applause thundered from the assembled group at his grandiose speech. I could only feel sick at the sight. Celebrating abomination and sin? This close to Christmas? Can some good Christian please shut that guy up?

He continued to ramble on. “But now, thanks to the fucking disgusting religious people in this fucking country…” his voice broke as he began to choke a little, tears starting to form in his eyes, “Krumpf is now our president and now we’ve… we’ve had a massive increase in gay suicides. We’ve had hate mail, we’ve… we’ve had bullying. We’ve… had the worst of the worst come back to haunt us again. All because religious fucks couldn’t stand equality.” This time he breaks down sobbing, and the others closest to him stand up to comfort him.

For a while, nobody spoke as the members of the group had a little collective cry and sob with the guy, but eventually the guy recovers enough to start speaking again. “But we will fight!” He said, voice soft at first, but growing louder as he gained his confidence back. “And we will keep fighting! And what better time to start than this Christmas? We’ll take on the religious’ favorite holiday, and we will kick out god and put in equality! This at least, I’m sure we will win. We have allies everywhere, and we must keep up the fight. This will send a message that we will not be cowed!”

I’m starting to get really fucking angry now. Wow, what a major asshole. Somebody needs to stop this fucker.

I watch the guy ramble on and on for a while, my stomach churning every time the crowd clapped and cheered on his anti-god agenda. Finally, I decided I had enough and decided to change the view. I needed some relief from that load of sinful crap. I needed to find a good pastor preaching the Word of God, like Fred Khelps or somebody just as fearless to calm me down. Hopefully, they would wage the good fight against the corruption of Christmas on my behalf. No more bending over backwards for the evil secular culture.

If only I could help them now. Shame about my grounding though.

I switch the view over to a random evangelical church, located somewhere on the outskirts of Hillsborough, where the urban areas stopped and the rural grassland areas began. It’s a small and narrow wooden building with a nice cosy interior, but both rows of pews are packed to the limit by mostly middle aged white people. At the pulpit, a white, middle aged pastor in a find black and white suit is standing at the pulpit, fearlessly denouncing the evils of the world to his congregation.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” he says as he raises a finger for emphasis, “the last days are upon us. Corruption is everywhere. Sin is normal. We are being persecuted for our witness for Christ. Everywhere we look, we are no longer allowed to be Christian!” There was righteous fire in his eyes and his voice thundered throughout the building, and there were choruses of murmured agreement from the assembled crowd. What a brilliant man of God. Willing to give the finger to the fucking culture.

“Faggots are getting married! Trans-freaks are accessing our bathrooms! Christian business owners can’t tell fags and trannies to get the hell out of their stores! Evil liberals are teaching our kids that it’s okay to be gay! Good Christian people are being fired – yes, fired! – for telling gays that they will go to hell! Satan has this nation in his grip! The liberals are waging a war against us! And they are winning!”

He paused, leaning over the pulpit dramatically, while the congregation hushed then leaned in toward him, curious as to what he was going to say next.

Finally, he continued, though his voice was much quieter than before. “And now… the evil ungodly liberals want to corrupt Christmas, the birthday of our precious savior. They want people to say ‘happy holidays’ instead of ‘merry Christmas.’ They want to remove every shred of godliness from our great nation.” He paused again, his fiery eyes sweeping over the congregation. There were quiet gasps and nods of approval.

“Now,” he continued, “we may have dodged a bullet with the election of Donald Krumf, and I thank all the good Christians that voted for him. But we _cannot_ be complacent!” His voice was thundering again, much to the crowd’s delight. “The liberals still want to criminalize Christianity! They still want to take our children and turn them gay or abort them if they can’t sexually confuse them! They still want to sneak trannies into any public bathroom where they can grope your kids! They want to shove their sexual perversion down our throats! But they will not win!” He yelled hoarsely, to thunderous applause from the congregation. His sermon is so powerful that I find that my heart is leaping for joy at him, all my anger forgotten at that instant.

“You know what we’re going to do?” He yelled, still on fire as the applause continued. “Does anyone know?”

One man in the crowd raised his hand. The applause died down, and all eyes turned to him, causing the man to shrink a little at the attention before he spoke. “We’re uh… going to show them the love and grace of Jesus Christ?”

Awkward silence fell on the room, as all eyes continued to glare at the man, making him shrink into the pew even more than he already was.

Finally, the pastor was the first to break the silence. “Fuck that shit. We’re goin’ fag hunting!”

Another round of cheering and thunderous applause.

Now that’s the spirit! I just wish I could join the lovely pastor on his sin cleansing mission. Once again, I’d do yet another evangelism trip, though this time I won’t have to do it alone, which should improve my success rates at bringing people to salvation. And I’ll stop this fucking blasphemous desecration of my birthday.

But like I said, too bad about the grounding though. That fucking sucks.

However, before I fell too deeply into despair, I’m interrupted by a tap on my shoulder. “Son?”

I look away from the screen at my dad next to me.

“Good news,” he says with a smile. “You’re no longer grounded. Now run along, and be a good boy.”

I smile back in response. Fuck yeah. Time to get back into action.

 

* * *

 

I’m preparing to go back to Earth yet again, because humanity keeps fucking up and I have to clean up the mess.

I know, you’re probably wondering why the hell I have to keep going back when the Bible says I wouldn’t until the second coming. Also, I did say last Halloween that I would respect free will, right? Isn’t going back just me walking back on my promises?

Well, not really. You see, in the Bible, the book of Revelation says that I will be coming in spectacular fashion, in such a fucking glorious way that every eye on Earth will see me and tremble. Also, I’ll be coming to gather my followers. If I don’t do either of those things, and just come and go, then I’m not really breaking any rules, right?

Good thing my daddy’s a lazy fuck. Lots of loopholes and all.

Also, getting rid of some problematic gays and other sinners on Christmas isn’t really interfering with free will. I just don’t want them fucking up my birthday party. It’s a one-off, you know. If my daddy can make exceptions, then so can I.

Now of course, my daddy’s also a fucking douchebag, so once again, he said he would strip me of my powers before I went back to Earth, because me performing too many miracles these days might confuse the fuck out of most people and make them worship Ganesha or Allah or some other shitty god.

Now having gone through an evangelism trip without any powers last Halloween, I knew how fucking terrible that idea was, so I begged and pleaded with him until he relented a little and let me have a little of my powers to take with me to Earth.

I would have a one-time use ability to resurrect any formerly living thing.

Now I thought that was still fucking stupid – how the fuck am I supposed to evangelize a sinful culture with only the ability to resurrect _once_? So, I begged and pleaded with daddy some more, and only just managed to get another concession out of him.

I now have a two-time use ability to resurrect any formerly living thing.

Yeah, it’s still fucking shit, but it’ll have to do.

So, with that said, I make my way past heaven’s usual scenery: the towering golden mansions, the rivers of milk and honey, and the massive wide open fields of unnaturally green grass, to reach the front gate, where I promptly leap out beyond the boundary of heaven, and messiah warp teleport to my first spot on Earth: the gay gathering in Hillsborough.


	2. Chapter 2

I teleport straight behind a house in the middle of a suburban street, landing in the backyard. As I look around me, I quickly take in the fuck-ugly scenery around me. The backyard is nothing but dirt, with a couple of empty beer cans and overturned, broken wooden chairs strewn around the place like the owners didn’t give a shit. The white picket fence is rotting and falling apart, and large sections of the fence are missing from the back. The house is run-down, with the cream white paint on the wooden exterior peeling badly and the dark tiled roof missing a few tiles here and there. However, the house is mostly intact, and so are the neighboring ones around here.

I turn and walk toward the left side of the house and make my way to the front, towards the street and out onto the sidewalk where I stop and have another look around. The street is full of potholes and debris, and is largely empty, save for a few teens sitting on the kerb on the opposite side, someways down on my left, smoking weed and sniffing gas from a jerry can.

As you can tell, this place is sort of fucked up. But I still have a job to do. I have to stop the evil gays from ruining my birthday.

Turning toward my right, I continue walking down the street until I hit the intersection at the end, where I promptly turned right again and continued to walk down the length of the street. I knew that the house should be near the end of this particular street.

This street is fairly long, allowing me a good long look at all the shit happening around me as I walk. There’s even more deadbeats on this street than the last one, with a drunken couple half-heartedly brawling in front of me in the street, while their children play with guns on the sidewalk. Stepping past the couple, I can see more drunken fucks stumbling around on the sidewalks and throwing up on the walkways of the other houses.

However, as I make my way past this group, something further down the road catches my eye. Sure, there are more of the deadbeat douchebags doing deadbeat douchebag things, but amidst them all were some of the gays that I had seen earlier, still in their loud rainbow t-shirts, running about and helping everyone that they could by distributing water bottles, small towels and medicine. They looked like angels amongst the fallen, their impeccable cleanliness appearing radiant in the afternoon sun compared to the filthiness of the people around them. I slowed, then came to a stop to watch them at work. They reminded me of my disciples, though these people put even them to shame.

Was I… admiring them? I shook those thoughts out of my head. Stop tolerating sin Jesus. Not with Christmas only two days away.

I started walking toward them again. Nice people or not, they’re still sinners hell bent on ruining my birthday. They still have to be stopped.

As I approach them, one of the gays closest to me notices and looks up at me. He looks quizzically at me at first, probably confused whether I was one of the filthy douchebags from around town or not. He doesn’t seem to be able to decide before I reached him, so I took the initiative and held out my hand for him to shake. “Hi, I’m Jesus Christ. Savior of all humanity. Crucified on the cross for your sins. And…” I had to hold my tongue from telling him that he was going to hell for being a faggot. Nice guy approach first, Jesus. Besides, these people seem friendly enough, with all the charity work they’re doing…

No! I mentally slap myself. They’re fucking sinners. Stop getting chummy with bad guys! And this guy in front of you is one of them.

The man smirks in response to my introduction, obviously not believing I’m actually Jesus, but then he picks up on the unfinished sentence. “And?”

“Nothing. I just need to talk with you guys about what you are doing.”

“Oh this?” He says, letting go of my hand to motion around him, “just our usual charity work. The gay community here in Hillsborough might not be the most fortunate, but we more than make up for it in our helpfulness to our local areas. It’s what makes up great.” He says with a charming smile. “Name’s Zander, by the way.”

“Yeah, it’s not about that, it’s about what you’re going to do this Christmas. You know, the extreme stuff.”

His eyes light up like a Christmas tree. “Oh, you must be the new guy! Benji must have filled you in already.” He says, excitedly, practically bouncing on his feet now. “Come along!” And with that, he drags me by my hand past the others in the street and to a house on the right. It’s a simple single story house that looks just like all the others in the street: dirty, run down with the paint peeling and roof tiles falling out. All this I only just manage to briefly glimpse as I’m practically dragged off my feet down the sidewalk to the front door.

Slow down Zander. I’m not gay. I’m not here to fuck you or anything. Don’t get too excited.

Zander throws open the door with his other hand and pulls me inside into the barren living room I saw in God Mode earlier, where he finally releases my hand, turning to me with shining eyes. “Oh, it’s always so good to have new allies in our fight!” He rambles, voice bubbly with enthusiasm, like a schoolgirl at a boy band concert. “How much has Benji filled you in on? I’m sure you just as willing to send those religious fucktards a good message, right? What skills do you bring? I’m sure they’re kickass–”

“Slow down Zander” I say, carefully considering my next move. This dumbass thinks I’m a part of his little group because of the information I revealed earlier. I can make use of this to find out what they’re up to, since I don’t have omnipotence down here, thanks to daddy’s restrictions. I also realized at this moment that I should have used it when I had the chance back in heaven instead of arguing with Dad over what powers I could bring to Earth. Wow, I’m a fucking idiot. Looks like I’m going to have to do this old-school. Again.

“Benji only gave me the basics.” I said, “now you fill in the rest.”

“Ooohhh, brilliant! Follow me!”

Zander walked to the corridor directly in front of us. With me following behind, he continued down to a room at the very end, pushing open the ajar door and flicking on the light as he entered. He walked into the center of the room just as I entered the doorway, kneeling down on the carpet and grabbing around the area. The carpet shifted, and I saw him pull back on it, peeling a square shaped piece of carpet that had been cut out from the rest. Zander pulled it off completely, and tossed it aside, to reveal a trap door hidden beneath. Reaching down into the small circular hand hole cut into the door, he pulled it up and out, before throwing the door aside too.

Without prompting, I walked over to get a better look at what was inside, and I almost shat myself.

Inside were guns. Lots of guns. Like, really, really fucking shitloads of guns. Black AR-15 rifles were piled up on every inch of the floor to the point where I thought the whole ground might have been made of guns. I looked back up to Zander kneeling in front of me to see his shining eyes and massive, face-stretching shit-eating grin. This fucker is really happy.

“Cool huh?” Zander said through his grin, “and the best part? We’ve illegally modified all the guns to be full auto.”

Fuck me. And I thought that asshole catholic priest Father Richard was bad. At least his firearm purchases were legal!

But I’m digressing. I need to find out what the fuck they’re going to do with these guns. And I sure as hell didn’t think they were going to go target shooting with machine guns.

“So,” I say as nonchalantly as possible, “uh… what are you going to do with all these?”

“Well, we’re going to go religious asshole hunting. Send a message. Maybe, we gays might have a Christmas without religious loonies ruining it for us.” Zander said, somehow maintaining that fucking grin. I really wanted to punch it off his face right now. These fuckers are going to kill my followers! What the fuck did they do? Well okay, they’ve done plenty, especially to gays, but they’re entitled to do that shit! They’re Christians!

But I’ve got to find out more. Stay cool.

“Uh… what’s that mean?” I say.

“It means that we’re going to go shoot up every anti-gay religious person we find. And we’re going to start with Samuel Khelps and his local fundies at the border of Hillsborough.”

I’m really struggling not to punch the smile off his face now. Really. Fucking. Struggling. Righteous fury is burning away inside me, threatening to spill out with the force of a thousand suns. I just put on a calm face though; I didn’t want to give the game away.

Hey, look on the bright side, Jesus. At least you won’t have any problem hating these gays anymore.

I mustn’t have been completely successful with hiding my true emotions though, since Zander sensed something was wrong, the smile vanishing from his face. He quickly changed the subject. “So, uh… Jesus, is it? Is that your real name?”

“Uh… yeah. I’m actually Jesus.”

“Woah… cool.”

“Yeah… so, uh. When’s the raid?”

“Tomorrow morning. Benji didn’t even tell you that?”

“Nope.” I said nonchalantly. However, there was a shitstorm brewing in my mind. I’ve got to get the fuck out of here and warn the church. “Well, I’d better get going now… there’s somewhere I have to be.” I started slowly backing out through the doorway and into the corridor.

“Oh okay.” Zander began, trailing off slightly. And then he perked up and became sunny again. “See ya!” Faggots are weird.

I turned around and walked down the length of the corridor and out through the front door. Making my way down the walkway to the sidewalk, I took a right and continued down the little remaining length of the road to the intersection, where I crossed across the road to the left sidewalk and kept following the road away from the junction. Only when I was sure I was out of sight of the other gays in the street did I start sprinting as fast as I could through the maze of streets and toward the edge of Hillsborough, where I knew the church would be.

 

* * *

 

I arrived at the outskirts of Hillsborough, slowing down into a jog and panting for breath.

As I pass by the last of the houses that bordered the edge of the suburb, I stopped and took a look at the scenery in front of me.

The land is completely flat, for as far as the eye can see, covered by yellow-green grass that was only just slightly shorter than waist height. A simple dirt and gravel road cut through the grass from just in front of where I was standing and into the far distance. Just off to the right side of this dirt road, and some ways off, I could just barely see the small church, standing by itself in the grass and surrounded by a modest picket white fence.

I begin making the long walk down the gravel road, still catching my breath, then breaking out into a slow jog as I slowly recovered. A short while later, and I was at the long gravel driveway that lead to the front gate of the fence and beyond to stop at the church’s double doors.

Wasting no time, I started running down the driveway, pushing my way through the gate and making my way past the last of the driveway and to the front doors, which I practically body-slam open, throwing myself inside as I do.

Inside, I saw the pastor standing in front of the right side of the pews, apparently deep in prayer, though I couldn’t really tell. The noise of my entry shakes him out of his state, and he turns around to face me.

Before he has the chance to say anything though, I’ve already run down the length of the short aisle to stand directly in front of him. “Hi… I’m Jesus... Jesus Christ…fuck…” I’m still a little breathless right now.

The pastor is completely dumbstruck, not saying a word the whole time I’m panting my lungs out and even when I’ve recovered. I try again. “Hi. I’m Jesus Christ. See?” I raise my hands to the sides of my head, allowing the long sleeves of my robe to fall down and reveal the nail holes in my wrists. “And you’re pastor Samuel Khelps, right?”

This time, he responds, his eyes widening in excitement. “Oh, yes… yes I am. You’re Jesus? But… but I thought you’d only come back during the rapture.”

“Exceptions can be made. I’ve made one for you by the way. Big things are happening. And they’re coming your way. You have to prepare.”

“What could we possibly need to prepare for, my lord. Is there sin in my congregation that needs to be purged?”

“No, it’s not that. The Hillsborough gays are going to come and shoot all of you up tomorrow. I heard it from them directly.”

“Oh…” He’s taken aback initially, “well how horrible of them to ruin our pre-Christmas service… But don’t worry. I’ve got it under control.” With that said, he reaches into his pockets and pulls out his phone. He gives it a few quick swipes and taps before replacing it in his pocket. “There. I’ve just called an emergency meeting with the congregation. They should be here in no time.”

And they were. I didn’t exactly keep track of time so I don’t know how long it took, but before I knew it, the church was full again somehow, with all of the people I saw here in God Mode view sitting in exactly the same places as they had been earlier. Pastor Samuel was also in his usual place by the pulpit by now, preparing to address the crowd, while I stood some ways off to his left, away from the pulpit.

“Now everybody,” he began, “I know that you’re all wondering what could be so dire as to make me call you all back to church this evening. Well, let me tell you that it is very, very dire indeed.” He leaned forward in his pulpit dramatically, just like I’d seen him before. This guy was a natural performance artist.

“Well, two things. Firstly, we have a heavenly visitor.” Samuel said, turning his head and motioning to me with his hand. “Jesus Christ himself, in the flesh.” The congregation gasps loudly, then begins to clap, but Pastor Samuel cut them off before they got too carried away.

“BUT!” He yelled, silencing them all, “he has come with a warning! The evil, sick faggots of Hillsborough will be coming to ruin our post-Christmas service! They will be coming to bring fire and lead along with their disgusting sinfulness. But we will not go down! Tomorrow, all of you will bring your guns with you, and we’re going to go fag hunting a day early!”

The congregation cheers and applauds loudly, while Pastor Samuel stood up straight in front of the pulpit proudly, spreading his arms out wide. It was a glorious sight… what a true man of God. Willing to gather the godly against the sinful…

However, the celebration was cut short when bullets started flying through the stained-glass windows on my right, sending broken glass all over the congregation. There was screaming and panic as everybody, me included threw ourselves to the floor to avoid the hail of bullets, currently turning the wooden walls into swiss cheese and sending wood splinters flying everywhere.

Shit. The faggot was lying. Did he fucking use me? Feed me a lie so that I would come here and bring the entire congregation back to the building?

No time to think about that however. We’re all still in danger. As quickly as I could, I crawl over to Pastor Samuel by the pulpit and grab him by the shoulder, making him look at me. “Get your congregation to pray!” I yelled over the screaming of the masses. I turned to the cowering congregation. “Everybody, start praying! Stand up and pray for salvation! The power of God is greater than the power of man!”

And then I see a glorious sight. With my powerful words, I saw the congregation all stand to their feet and turn toward the gunfire. Some of them raised their hands while others clasped them together, but all of them bowed their heads and started praying their hearts out. The prayers of the congregation drowned out the distant gunfire, and all I could hear were snippets of their rapid praying.

“…Lord, render their wicked bullets useless against us…”

“…even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…”

“…kill the evil gays and deliver us from the evil one…”

“…no weapon formed against me shall prosper…”

Unfortunately, a few of the congregation were starting to get shot; I watched in horror as some of the members of the church crumpled and fell, the blood pooling around the feet of those still alive. However, the congregation continued to pray unceasingly, even as more and more of them were being cut down. The sight warmed my heart, even as it was crushed to see the losses of good men and women of God.

Pastor Samuel didn’t seem to think so unfortunately. Still lying on his belly next to me, he reached over and grabbed my shoulder to get my attention. “Jesus, it isn’t working!”

“My dad works in mysterious ways! Don’t lose faith… he will deliver us!”

“Why isn’t he answering our prayers then!?”

“He does answer prayers! Sometimes he says no a few times to test our faith! Keep praying!”

“He lowers his head and starts praying again. However, I noticed that he didn’t stand up like the rest of the others, the pussy.

Yeah, I’m still lying down too as well, but shut the fuck up. I can’t die again. I’m here for a mission, remember?

I look back at the congregation to see how their spiritual warfare is going. To be honest, it’s not looking good, with less than half of the crowd still standing, and even that number is dropping as the gunfire appears to get closer and closer.

As more of the congregation falls, I see one particular man duck back down and make his way around the left side of the pews, running toward me. As he gets closer, I recognize his face – he was the man that I saw on God Mode suggesting that the evil sinners of our culture be shown love and grace.

I narrow my eyes as I watch him make his way to the front of the pews, where he turned to the wall, groping at it at random. His hands manage to grasp something, and he pushes, causing part of the wall to swing away, and I realize that it’s a discreet side door that I hadn’t noticed.

In a flash, the man throws himself through the side door, leaving it swinging behind him.

Oh no, you don’t. I think, as I witness his cowardice. I scramble to my feet, narrowly dodging a few errant bullets in the process and run towards and out the door, intent on dragging him back to where he belongs.

The man has a small head start on me, but not by much and I easily catch up to him and tackle him down into the grass. He struggles, and tries to roll over, but I throw my weight on his back and pin him to the ground. “Stop!” I yell at him while he thrashes under me like a bull. “Where the fuck is your faith!”

“We’re getting slaughtered in there!” He yells back. “There’s no way I’m dying in there.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Why the fuck should I? And get off me.”

“Only if you promise not to run.”

Behind me, I can hear the front doors of the church being kicked open. I roll off the man and look back toward the church. There’s a couple of seconds of rapid gunfire, the church wall gaining an additional load of bullet holes in the process. Then silence.

Well at least there’s an upside: the door has blown shut, so both me and the man are safe for now, assuming that they don’t discover the door.

But I digress.

Inside the church, I can hear the crunching of shoes on broken glass as the group of armed faggots, which I’m too low in the grass to be able to see, makes their way down the inside towards the end of the building where the pulpit was.

Finally, the footsteps stop, and I can hear grunting and groaning as somebody is hauled up.

Oh no… Pastor Samuel.

Through the smashed church windows, I can hear Zander’s cheery voice. “It was nice of you to send one of your wack-jobs my way, dear Samuel. I just knew it was one of yours.” He then lets out a really fucking creepy laugh.

“No… I…” I can hear the good pastor stuttering.

“Oh, stop trying to save your pride. You played right into my hands!”

“Now wait…”

He never got to finish that sentence, as a gunshot rang out, and I heard a loud thump a short moment later.

“Do a quick sweep, then let’s get out of here. Don’t diddle-daddle!” Zander said, barely a moment later, cheery as ever. Clearly this fuck wasn’t wasting any fucking time. What the hell is this guy’s hurry anyway? Got another church to shoot up?

For a while, I stayed there lying in the grass, trying not to make a noise as I listened to the group inside the church scramble around. A moment later, and they all made their way out of the church.

I waited for a moment longer, then let out a breath of relief. What a fucking mess.

I hear another breath being let out next to me, and I realized that I’d momentarily forgotten about the fucking coward. I turned to get a look at him. Up close, I can see that he’s quite lanky and a fair bit younger than the congregation. He’s awfully nervous as I eye him up and down, though whether that’s because of me or the nasty shoot-up we just escaped, I don’t know.

He tries to make small talk. “So, Jesus uh… about earlier…”

“About you running out on our faith? Yeah, let’s talk about that. Why?”

“It’s because uh… it’s because I didn’t want to be killed by my own kind.”

That statement hits me like a fucking truck. “Wait, what the fuck? Your kind?”

“I’m gay, Jesus. I’m just like those people that were in there.”

“Wait, you _knew_ that this was going to happen? You–”

“Listen! Jesus, this was a long time coming. It was all over the gay instant messaging groups.”

“You knew? You fucking knew and you didn’t do shit!–”

“Well how could I!” He’s indignant now, yelling at the top of his lungs. “You think the congregation would accept me if I told them how I knew? Do you have any fucking idea what would happen to me? What Pastor Samuel would do?” I see tears form in his eyes as he pours out his heart to me, and I can’t help but feel some sympathy for him. He doesn’t seem so bad…

Stop it! You’re doing it again, Jesus. Stop tolerating sin! I squeeze every last bit of sympathy out of my heart and steel myself to deliver the cold, hard truth to the man. “That’s because being gay is a sin, dumbass. Read your bible.”

“I have read my bible, Jesus. And I choose to interpret it a different way.”

“Really? _Interpret_ the plain fucking language?” I’m laughing my ass off now, to the point where my stomach starts to hurt. When I’m spent, I continue giving my verbal beat down. “Listen, you can’t be a fucking faggot and a Christian at the same time, okay? It’s the straight and narrow, or it’s hell! And let me tell you, hell is fucking hot! Tell me, do you like faggot barbecue?”

He just glares at me for a very long time, not saying a word, the anger simmering on his face.

Finally, he pushes himself up, standing to his feet. He turns to walk away through the grass field, away from the church building, but pauses, turning back to address me. “You know Jesus, if you are going to be such a fucking intolerant prick, then I want nothing to do with you or your followers. I’m done.” And with that, he turns away and storms off through the grass.

Shit. I’ve lost a customer to Satan.

“Hey wait!” I yell at his receding form. “You know you’re going to hell right!”

He just flips me the bird over his shoulder, not even bothering to look back as he’s walking.

Asshole.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s the morning, on the day before Christmas, and I’m walking back through Hillsborough and towards Fenwick, after having a pretty shitty sleep in the grass.

Why I’m going back to Fenwick, I don’t really know. I guess it’s just my messiah intuition that I’ll be able to find out what next to do there, and hopefully get some answers to this shitty situation.

I mean, what the fuck do those Hillsborough gays think they can do by shooting up a few churches? That’ll just piss off my followers, and I know there are plenty of righteous Christians in this country that are just itching to put a faggot out of their misery, even without any prompting from the Holy Spirit.

At this point in time, I’ve just crossed over the border separating Fenwick from Hillsborough, and now I’m just aimlessly wondering the quiet streets, making my way toward the center of the suburb.

All of the houses here have their Christmas string-lights out, the colours of green, blue and yellow lighting up every corner of the roofs and walls. Also, many of the houses have lit-up statues in their yards, depicting all sorts of Christmassy figures, such as Santa Claus, Rudolph the reindeer, and various snowmen in bright colours.

I also notice that none of them depict any Christian figures. But what did I expect. I was here last Halloween. People around here don’t give a shit about me.

As I’m walking, I pass by a technology store showing off a few large flatscreen TV’s in the store’s front window. Displayed on the screens was a news program, and what the news reporter onscreen is saying instantly catches my ear.

“…police have arrested a group of young gay men that have allegedly perpetrated a mass shooting in a church in Hillsborough. The perpetrators of this crime have surrendered themselves to the police at around six A.M. this morning.”

Wait, what the fuck? They fucking surrendered? I stopped in front of the window to watch the program. The news reporter – who’s a very fine young and hot female – is standing toward the left side of the frame, while in the background, I can see the evil faggots that shot up the church being led into the back of a couple of police vans parked in some quiet suburban street. I can see Zander and the college liberal nazi guy I saw in God Mode among them, both of them attempting to turn around to smile at the camera while being dragged away by two officers.

I continue to listen to the news reporter ramble on. “…Currently, the two leaders of the group, known only as Zander and Benji, have stated that their motive was to bring to light the many ways which religion breeds intolerance against homosexuals as well as draw attention to the plight of many young homosexuals during holidays traditionally associated with religion, such as Christmas…”

Oh, so that’s what the real purpose of your little Christian murdering rampage is. To take me out of my own birthday? How the fuck is that supposed to work anyway? This might actually be a blessing in disguise, since I can convince people that Christians are actually persecuted in this great majority Christian country. Suck on that, faggots.

I focus back on the news report. Currently, the reporter has brought in someone to the program, and I immediately identify it as the gay asshole from the church.

Oh no, I have a bad feeling about this. He’s the gay sympathy card played by the media, that I’m pretty damn sure of.

The reporter steps closer to him, and he starts speaking hesitantly, every work spewing out of his mouth making me angrier and angrier. “Well, I uh, I was a member of that church actually, but I’m also gay, so I stayed in the closet. Recently, I’ve left that hateful church, and the religion too by the way. And let me tell you, if you were in the church, then you’d be glad that these disgusting people were killed, let me tell you. I was a part of that community for a long time, and I couldn’t be happier.”

What sick, hateful garbage! I should have walked away, for my own sanity’s sake, but my eyes are still irresistibly glued to the screen, curious as to what else will be said.

He continues, much more confidently this time. “The things that they were going to do to gay people, you wouldn’t believe! Its beyond sickening what these people were about to do in the name of God, I can’t even begin to describe it.” Once again, I see tears form in his eyes. His voice is also beginning to waver. “Many people still don’t realize how hard Christmas is for us gays. We’ve always been excluded, usually, but Christmas… Christmas…” He pauses to suck in a sharp breath, holding it momentarily to calm himself. “Christmas is when religious parents refuse to invite their gay children back home. Christmas is when your relatives blackmail gay kids for splitting up the family. Christmas… Christmas is fucking hell for us!” He pauses to wipe his eyes, the tears beginning to stream down his face. “But with your help, we can still fight back. Christmas is for all of us, not just Christians, and we have to make that clear!”

“So how should we do that?”

“Start small. Remember, say ‘happy holidays’ instead of ‘merry Christmas’ to remind others that not everybody in this country is Christian and that all are entitled to celebrate Christmas. Or if you still want to say ‘merry Christmas’ then remind others that Christmas is pagan in origin whenever you can. And remember: Christmas is for all, not just Christians. Never forget that!”

“Okay, thank you for your story.” The reporter stepped away from him, the camera following her until he was out of the frame. “Now, despite the fact that it’s still early in the morning, reactions have still been pouring in from social media. There’s been an outpouring of support for the gay community right now. As you can see, currently trending is the “Christmas for all” hashtag which expresses solidarity for marginalized groups.” On the side of the screen, I see some hateful anti-Christian messages being displayed:

“Christmas is originally pagan, not Christian. Suck on that, Jesus Freaks #ChristmasForAll”

“Entitled whiny Christians should stop thinking they are persecuted. #ChristmasForAll”

“Ugh… bullying religious f*cks bullying everybody they don’t like. #ChristmasForAll”

“Remember, Jesus was gay. #ChristmasForAll”

“Christmas is better without hateful religious people. #ChristmasForAll”

Fuck. The gay sympathy card worked.

I stopped reading the messages soon after… they were just so hateful and disgusting. Where’s the fucking sympathy and outrage for the good Christians that were shot in the Church? What about all the Christian businesses in this country that have to serve gays and trannies, or the many good Christian clerks that are being fired for not giving marriage certificates to these abominations to God? Where’s the tears for them?

I’m really fucking worried now. An avalanche of evil secularism is sweeping this good nation, and now the majority of people want to kick me out of my own birthday celebration, that was made clear by social media. They want to celebrate an anti-Christian Christmas, which is a complete fucking tragedy to say the least. I’ve got to resort to much more desperate measures now, if I want to have a hope of preventing the desecration of this holiday. Now I’m going to have to use my powers.

I turn away from the TV screens and keep walking down the street, thinking about how I could use my powers for maximum impact. I can only resurrect twice, so I have to choose my opportunities carefully. Resurrecting a nobody won’t do much good. I have to resurrect somebody famous enough, so that I can restore faith in God in this nation.

Currently, I’m thinking though lists of dead celebrities that everyday people still might give a shit about as I’m walking, when I walked past a house with red and white string lights shaped into a large gorilla dressed in a Santa costume on the wall. Curiosity perked again, I stop and turn to look at the display more closely. The signs planted into the grass underneath it read: “Merry Christmas, from Harambe.”

And at that moment, I have a massive fucking brainwave.

Everybody knows Harambe right? The gorilla that was shot because some dumb bitch couldn’t mind her three-year-old who then climbed into the gorilla enclosure? There were plenty of people mourning the death of that fucking gorilla, especially in middle class areas like Fenwick that are full of bleeding heart liberals with nothing better to do than be perpetually outraged at random shit. Imagine what will happen if I resurrect him?

I turn and start jogging again. This time, I know where I’m going to go – the old Catholic church opposite the Fenwick Atheists Group house. Imagine just what will happen when I resurrect the beloved Harambe on the church lawn. People will come in droves!

I start running now, speeding through the maze of neatly ordered streets full of near identical houses until I reach the front of the local Catholic church. As I reach there, I walk down the walkway toward the church double doors, but stop halfway, turning around to look directly down the street that lead away from the church and at the people currently outside. At this time, parents and their children were beginning to come out to their front yards to get the mail and check over their Christmas lighting displays.

Now time to bring out the real display. Stretching out my hand in front of me, I closed my eyes and mentally commanded Harambe to come back to life. I could feel the heat course through me and out through my hand as my powers worked their magic. Finally, the heat subsided, and I opened my eyes, looking at the wonderful sight of the famous gorilla staring back, lumbering playfully in front of me.

I couldn’t be happier. I laughed out loud and jumped for joy, before making my way past Harambe and back to the sidewalk to proclaim the news to the rest of the street. “Everyone! Harambe lives!” I bellow at the top of my lungs. “Harambe fucking lives!”

In response, I see some of the people turn their heads curiously. However, it was the children that were the most enthusiastic, running down the sidewalks toward me and Harambe before their parents could do anything.

In no time at all, the children were crowding around me, chattering excitedly while their parents were walking over to catch up. The questions and comments were being thrown around thick and fast as the children began quarrelling amongst themselves:

“…is that really Harambe?”

“…I don’t think so, dummy. Harambe’s dead–”

“…No, I saw that Jesus-looking guy resurrect him just now!”

“…Oh so you believe in magic now? Ha!”

“…What, you didn’t see it? I saw it too, dummy…”

I decide to interrupt at this stage, yelling loudly above the rest of them. “Everybody, I’m Jesus Christ, and this is Harambe – the real Harambe, cross my heart and strike me dead – and this is my Christmas present to all of you. Now who wants to have a closer look?”

One of the kids in the front speaks up. “Reeeallly cross your heart?”

I look her in the eye. “Yes, really. Now again, who wants a closer look? Hands up, please.”

All hands shoot up excitedly.

 

* * *

 

I’ve just taken Harambe for a long tour around Fenwick, allowing all the kids from the suburb to come and see. I couldn’t let them get too close though, since he’d get antsy, which might cause problems.

It’s late into the night now, the sun having long set, but there were no shortage of kids trying to get a glimpse of the famous gorilla in the dim light of the streetlamps and arguing among themselves if it was really him or not.

Right now, many of the kids have brought print-outs of Harambe, attempting to compare the faces to see if I was telling the truth. So far, they seemed satisfied.

But I noticed that while the kids were convinced, the parents that they hauled along clearly weren’t, treating this whole thing as just another public animal showcase to entertain their kids. If they aren’t convinced that this is Harambe, then I’m really going to have trouble using him as leverage to spread my Christmas message.

Looks like I’m going to have to play hardball now.

I raise my hands in front of the crowd. “Everybody, I’m going to have to stop this show to deliver an important Christmas message–”

“But I wanna see!” Some little girl in the front row whines.

“Yes, you will, but I have to deliver my main message about Christmas.”

“Nobody wants to hear your stupid message, dumbo! We wanna see Harambe!”

Oh, I’m mad now. What an entitled little bitch.

I look her in the eyes, leaning down. “Well I’m sorry, you little whiny fucking little impatient bitch. I’m Jesus-Fucking-Christ and I’m more important than a dead gorilla!”

That does the trick, as she starts to pout, and tears well up in her eyes. The other kids around her look absolutely fucking shocked at what I said, but screw them. I mean business.

Standing back up, I can see their equally shocked parents attempting to pull their children away from me and Harambe, urging them back to their houses. However, the kids weren’t done with us yet, as they started whining again.

Unfortunately, this time, instead of just whining, they started trying to push past me.

Harambe started getting antsy again, backing up from the kids making their way to him. Unfortunately, we were surrounded by kids, and he backed up into a few boys that were trying to climb onto his back. Freaking out, he turned around and lashed out, knocking the boys and a few other kids behind them backwards.

“No, no, no, no Harambe, don’t!” I yell out as I make my way to him, hoping to calm him down, but he’s now lumbering away from me, roaring as he chases the mob of kids away. This whole show and tell is going downhill fast, and I’ve got to stop him before he kills any kids, or I’m going to be seriously fucked.

I’m about to run after him, but then in front of me, not too far away, I see a man dash out his front door and onto his front lawn, a massive rifle in his hands. I watch in absolute fucking horror as he takes aim at the charging gorilla.

There’s nothing I can do. I’m going to lose my investment. Shit, shit, shit, shitshitshit…

Not a moment later, the man has fired and Harambe stumbles, then topples over onto his side, dead.

The man lowers his rifle, and I see the scattered crowd cautiously approach the body of Harambe. I simply stare ahead at his crumpled form, sad for the gorilla that he had to die again, but also absolutely pissed. What a fucking waste.

“Hey you!” I hear an adult call out somewhere, and I’m snapped out of my thoughts. “You’re response for this incident! I demand to talk to your supervisor!”

I don’t even bother to find the source of the voice, turning around and running. I don’t have time to deal with this shit.

“Hey, stop you! Hey!” the man yells, but his voice is growing fainter as I run down the streets, weaving through the streets at random, not sure where I’m going to end up.

Only when I was sure that I was far away did I slow down into a slow walk, to contemplate my situation.

I’ve resurrected Harambe, but that didn’t do shit for me. I never even got to deliver my important Christmas message. Now I have only one chance left.

But who should I resurrect? I mull over this question for a good while, while I stroll the streets in a glum mood.

As I’m walking, I pass by a familiar house and it instantly catches my attention.

To my left, is the double story house of the Fenwick Atheist Group, though this time, there are posters all over the wall dedicated to the late David Pilverman, the former president of the group. I stop and turn to look at David’s smug mug plastered all over the walls, with the words “RIP David Pilverman. Gone but not forgotten” written below his face and my thoughts are temporarily derailed as I smugly reminisce on how David must feel having denied God and the devil, only to realize how real they really were.

I hope that douchebag is getting fucked hard in the ass by Satan. That’s the bare minimum you deserve for leading so many of my followers away. Now just imagine if he could come back right now and tell the world how horribly wrong he was. I mean, this guy was the fucking _president_ of the Fenwick Atheist Group. If he changed his mind, that would be the best testimony for me that I could have…

Oh no. No fucking way.

No, no, no, no, no. I’m not fucking resurrecting him. Fuck no. Not that asshole. You can’t be thinking that.

I shut my eyes, and press my palms to my face, trying to will these thoughts away. However, deep down, I knew that there was really no better person to resurrect. There was no way out. I was going to have to do it.

“Fuck me.” I mumbled, as I took one of my hands away from my face and placed it out in front of me. The heat coursed through me and out through my hand, as I felt my powers work to bring a fucking douchebag back to life.

Finally, the heat subsided, and as I took my other hand off my face and opened my eyes, I was left looking at the bewildered face of David Pilverman.

You better make this worth my while, I mentally chided him.

David Pilverman recovers from the initial shock and walks over to me. “Well Jesus, thank you for bringing me out of Hell.”

I smile back. “So, David. How’s the non-existent hell you went to? Exactly what you expected?”

David smiles widely back, catching me off guard. “Oh no, it’s not what I expected. It’s actually quite nice.”

My face fell. “Wait, what?”

“Oh, me and Satan pretty much hit it off from day one. We’re an item now, by the way.”

“Wait, what the fuck? You’re dating Satan?”

“Oh yeah, I thought you would have known, being omnipotent and all right? Oh, and I think you should know, Satan gives way better blowjobs than my ex-wife. Wow, that guy is really something.”

I just stare at him, completely fucking dumbfounded, and utterly unable to say anything at all. I’m stuck in that state for a while, staring at his smug face with my jaw hanging open and my eye twitching while David Pilverman continues to talk about the wonders of spreading Satanism or some shit; I don’t really know because my brain has started to go numb and isn’t registering too much of what he’s saying anymore.

Suddenly, I manage to recover, and then immediately lose my shit.

Not a normal everyday lose my shit, by the way. I’m talking going nuclear, destroy the world, losing my shit. And that’s the understatement of the fucking millennium, let me tell you.

In an instant, I find myself hollering incoherently, kicking and stomping at the ground and swinging my hands like windmills in pure, unadultered, righteous messiah frustration of the highest order at having once again wasted my powers. I kneel down and start banging my head and fists against the sidewalk until I’m stopped by David grabbing me from behind by my shoulders and throwing me onto my back.

“Jesus, please stop! Calm down.” David yells at me while trying to hold me down. However, I don’t listen to him as I thrash under his hands, kicking and flailing my arms like a little kid. David is patient though, and eventually I tire from my tantrum and allow myself to calm down.

David keeps his hands on me for a while longer, waiting to see if I would cause any more problems. Eventually, he takes his hands off me and sits down on the sidewalk beside me as I stay lying there, staring up at the sky. “What’s gotten into you?”

I’m not in the mood to answer that, so I throw another question at him. “How’s Satan treating Father Richard?”

“He’s left him alone.”

“So I guess he’s doing just fine in hell?”

“There aren’t any children in hell remember?”

“What do you–oh right. Never mind.”

I hear David sigh deeply. “So, Jesus. What’s gotten into you?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“C’mon Jesus. Why not?”

This time I’m the one that sighs deeply. “Christmas isn’t going how I want it to go. You’re all wrecking my birthday celebration.”

“In what way?”

I sigh again. “You should know. You’re all trying to make Christmas anti-Christian. You’re asking people to say ‘happy holidays’ instead of ‘merry Christmas.’ You’re also trying to get gays and trannies and other sick freaks to be accepted on my birthday. Why can’t I just have Christmas just the way I want it?”

David doesn’t say anything for a while, turning away from me and allowing the silence stretching into awkwardness. Eventually, he turns back to address me. “You still haven’t learnt anything from last Halloween, have you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Let me show you.”

David stands to his feet, then offers his hand to me, which I accept. He pulls me up from the pavement before walking over to the driveway of the Fenwick Atheist Group house, making his way up to the garage door. Halfway up the driveway, I saw him walk over to the edge of the driveway where the side met the front lawn, where he bent over, fishing out a key hidden in the crack before continuing to the garage door. He unlocked it, then bent down to pull open the door to reveal a dusty red sports car.

David turns back to me and beckons. “Come on.”

I walk down the driveway to David. He enters the garage, and tugs on the driver side door which opens in a cloud of dust, while I move to the side, waiting for him to drive the car out. Not long after, David is in the driver seat, and attempting to start the car, which he does in a few tries, surprisingly enough.

David rolls the car out onto the driveway until the passenger door is right beside me. I don’t need any prompting to get inside. Once I’m in, David drives out and through the streets in silence, not telling me where we’re going. I’m not in the mood to ask anyway.

We drive for a while, the scene outside just a blur to my fucked up mind, when I notice that we’re slowing down.

“Eyes peeled, Jesus” David says, finally breaking his silence.

We continue to drive down a small suburban street to an intersection which lead onto a much larger city road. David reaches the intersection, and turns right allowing me to look down the road to the scene at the end of the road…

And it blows my fucking mind.

At the end of the road, just beyond the T-junction, was the same boring Christmas tree that I saw in God Mode back in heaven. Only that this time it wasn’t so boring now.

The Christmas tree was fully lit up now, looking like a beacon of light that rivalled my daddy on a good day. Also, despite the fact that it was very early – so early that Christmas Eve probably only ended just a few hours ago – the crowd here was absolutely massive, swarming around the tree, and out onto the streets. All of them were holding candles, the little pinpricks of orange light giving the whole place a warm, ethereal glow.

If I thought the Halloween celebrations were fucking awesome, well it had absolutely nothing on this.

David continues to drive closer, before parking on the kerb behind a long row of cars. Both of us exited the car and slowly walked down the sidewalk to the early Christmas celebrations. The soothing sound of Christmas carols greeted us as we got closer and closer, sounding absolutely heavenly to my ears.

“Look at that crowd, Jesus. Beautiful, isn’t it”

“Yes it is.”

“Now, does this remind you of anything I told you last Halloween?”

“There is real beauty in human connection.”

“Learn to embrace it.” David finished. “So, why haven’t you learned yet?”

I sighed. “I have learned David, but I still want my birthday celebration just the way I like it you know. Without fucking weirdos.”

David motions to the crowd. “So, would your birthday celebration be more or less fun with half this crowd?”

“Probably less fun, yeah.”

“That’s probably how many people would disappear if you had your way, Jesus. You can have your pure Christmas celebration with no gay people, no transgender people, no atheists or people of other religions… but you’ll be miserable, and probably fucking bored. You lose nothing through inclusion and diversity, Jesus. Christmas should be for all.”

I sighed again. “I guess you’re right.” Looks like I’ve been shown up by David again. That’s never happened with anyone else. But I’m finding it harder to stay pissed and angry as we near the massive crowd. I think the early morning Christmas day mood might be infecting me now.

“Also, Jesus, perhaps you should hang out with these people. You’ll find that many of them are not weirdos or creepy fucks you know. What do you say?”

“Sure, David. You’ll show me around?”

“Of course, Jesus.” He says with a smile. “Oh, and one more thing. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you too, David.”

And with that, we both joined in with the rest of the crowd, sharing in the Christmas cheer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you accepted Jackass Jesus as your Lord and Savior this Christmas? Then spread the good news through places like reddit and other social sites full of ungodly sinners, and give them the gift of salvation.
> 
> PS: Did you know that you can crash the websites of evil atheist organizations like American Atheists, Freedom from Religion Foundation, Recovering from Religion Foundation, American Humanist Association, Center for Enquiry, National Center for Science Education, ACLU, Planned Parenthood and so on by going to their donation page and sending them huge sums of money? Yes, I didn’t make that up – that will actually happen. That’ll teach them to desecrate Christmas!
> 
> Merry Christmas everybody, and have a happy holiday.


End file.
